Group's Shadow Art Fair remains small, but returnees haven't see it all

Lori Brown at last year's Shadow Art Fair. The event is Saturday at Ypsilanti's Corner Brewery.

The first thing you'll be asked for at Michigan Design Militia's Shadow Art Fair, coming to Ypsilanti's Corner Brewery on Saturday, is your two cents.

Not your opinion, either (those are apparently still going for the popular rate of "free"), but a cover charge of two actual cents, to be applied toward a $1,000 local arts grant - this year's recipient is Dreamland Theater, which promises to use it for a History of Ypsilanti puppet show project. Basic math says that's a lot of pennies, but organizer Jennifer Albaum says they regularly take in several hundred dollars by the end of the 12-hour fair. "It's funny because people never put in two cents - maybe they mistake it and put in $2, sometimes $5, sometimes $10. Sometimes their whole pockets."

Your change buys you admission into a sort of antithesis to the big fairs going on in Ann Arbor - small, DIY-themed, and local, local, local. Albaum says that for the first fair four years ago, "we basically said, 'Hey, let's invite 30-40 of our friends and see what happens.' We had no idea that we would be able to pull it off, and then it was way bigger than we expected."

By now, it's settled into the "40 artists, 9,000 gallons of beer" format made familiar by the fair's tagline, and that seems just about right to the Militia. "People ask us, 'Why don't you grow?' but then it becomes sprawling and less intimate. We don't want to grow. We like keeping it small - we've found something that works for most people."

But just because the size doesn't change, don't think that if you've come once, you've seen it all. This is, after all, the place where you could once buy a bowl of vegan gumbo with a hug included, have your feet photographed for an installation and watch a giant stuffed cat eat a guy dressed up like a mouse. "We're trying to push the limits every time," laughed Albaum, adding that she's thrilled that somewhere around half of the vendors this year are first-timers. "I can't wait to shop for new things and see the new art."

There's live music, too, starting at 2 p.m. in the beer garden, and this year the fair has paired up folk musicians with noise bands for what are sure to be a few interesting performances. ("I might have to shut my booth and see what's going on with that," mused Albaum.) Other performance art includes comedy, poetry, live DJ sets, short films and a shadow puppet show.

The special-occasion Shadow Brew, made on-site, is as local a beer as you can get, and this edition advertises that it's "brewed with earth berries, heaven berries, radish in the mash and a cherry on top." You can't wander in the next day and order up a pint to see what you've missed, either - Albaum says it always sells out.

Albaum thinks it's the Militia's relentless focus on community that's become the fair's trademark. "There's not so much focus on the business aspect. I think it's easy to get caught up in that, and that's fine, there's a place for that. But I think the absence of that businesss-y push to the fair makes people feel comfortable - there's no pressure. Our vendors make money for themselves because it's an organic thing: People really want to come out and enjoy themselves, so there's a critical mass and vendors just kind of make money by default.